


Collage of Stories

by Ether Vibes (Vriskaserbet)



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Body Horror, Heavy Angst, Horror, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Panic Attacks, Post-Bad Ending (Smile For Me), Some OCs but the focus is on the canon characters, Tags/characters will be added as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22962337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vriskaserbet/pseuds/Ether%20Vibes
Summary: There’s laughter in the woods. Hysterical barks. Crazed giggling. Booming cackles. Wispy little chuckles. It’s deeply concerning, it’s so unnerving, but the local folks try to stomach it down. They subtly begin locking their houses tighter, making unacknowledged small changes that quickly avalanche into a complete revision of their schedule and way of life. People don’t go out late anymore, trips to even the local forests slow to a halt and so on. They begin to whisper in secret— stay out of the mountains, never go up too high, don’t yell at the laughter, keep your doors locked, don’t ever speak of the resort— and they become very good at the art of ignoring and forgetting what they had seen. At least acting like it, telling no one how they awoke in the middle of the night again in a frantic start; by the never-ending cascade of laughter that’s far too close for comfort.Truthfully, the only time to be genuinely frightened is when there’s absolute silence. Not even the distant snort, nor howl or hoot.That’s when they begin to really roam.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	1. HAH! HA HA! Haha HA!

**Author's Note:**

> While not overtly graphic, there is a paragraph that does mention animal injury/implied death. At the words "His hear thumped as his anxious thoughts..." feel free to skip to the next paragraph if you'd have a strong reaction.

Of course, immediate chaos didn’t occur from their creation. In fact, for a short time, things continued normally in the town. Of the small group of eleven that survived the incident— most moved out within the next week. The few that stayed kept silent, retreating deep into their homes and isolating themselves from the community. The general populace didn’t have the slightest inkling of what happened. 

Plus, walking all the way down from the resort would take time for anybody; especially for someone not in the right mind anymore. It was a purposeful design from  **Him,** to keep the resort isolated, buried deep within the thickest part of the forest.

It’s difficult to tell when people started to notice. What can be gathered is that it all started quietly. It seemed harmless, something so mundane that it could be brushed off without fear. The earliest account can be made to a local resident, casually asking if her neighbors had heard the howls last night.

_ (For privacy, names have been changed.) _

“Maybe I’m just sensitive to noise. But those howls sounded close by, at least to me.” Blue explained, sipping her cup of coffee slowly. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, sure. But, it’s just a wolf. I’m sure it’s just wanderin’ around lookin’ for scraps. Just call animal control if you see it.” Red responded.

“Personally, it’s something to worry about! I’m worried for my dog!” Yellow chimed in. The conversation had him sweating bullets. “You know my little Puffball? My precious Puffy?”

“How could I not?” Blue responded with a laugh. “She’s always in my backyard, not yours!”

“Precisely my point! I love her, but she’s an infamous escape artist! The very best of her kind, you know! I swear, she can squeeze out of anything! And open doors, even! I want that wolf captured fast!”

“Okay, I’m going to ask because no one else has— did  _ anybody  _ hear that weird laughter last night?” Green asked, with an annoyed sigh. “Because that freaked me the hell out last night!”

They all paused. Just for a moment.

“Well, it just sounded like a kid to me. Nothin’ to worry about.” Red responded.

“Ugh, it sounded like they were summoning a demon.” Green shivered. “Kids these days!”

“Children shouldn’t be out that late at night! Who knows what trouble they’re getting into...” Yellow shook his head.

Blue shrugged her shoulders. “Anyways, it’s probably nothing. Yellow, I promise, if your little rat comes by my house, I’ll take care of her.” Blue smirked at the way Yellow huffed at the word ‘rat.’

“She’s a purebred Pomeranian, you know.”

“Purebred rat, I got it.” He groaned in response.

* * *

That night, Yellow was ready to keep his precious Puffball safe. He went to every window and every door, shutting them tight and locking them tighter. Every little escape route was covered up, from the old garage door that never shut right to the loose window screen. Once he was done, it was quite dark out. He picked up Puffball and went up his stairs, placing her in his room and closing the door behind him. 

When he fell asleep, Puffball was comfortably in his lap, curled and settled in for bed. Finally, he released his anxiety and nodded off— 

But only to awake to frightened barks. 

Yellow seized up in bed, quickly noticing the absence on his lap. His heart leapt to his throat, his breaths coming in short and unsteady. He looked all around his room, fumbling with his hand to the dresser to turn on the lamp. In the light, he couldn’t see any sign of his pet. Instead, he could see his bedroom door wide open. The realization was quickly overshadowed by the high-pitched barks only growing louder, now coupled with the clear noise of claws scratching against a screen door.

The screen door to his backyard.

He cursed, throwing the blankets off the bed as he practically jumped out. He grabbed his night robe, messily tying it together without any concern. He fumbled for a long moment, trying to get his slippers on. His toes kept colliding with the carpet or slipping out at the last second. His heart thumped as his anxious thoughts turned violent, picturing his little bloody baby at the door, yelping and crying as the wolf slowly stepped forward and bared it’s teeth and all because he couldn’t get his FUCKING SLIPPERS ON— 

Yellow finally stopped, a slipper on one foot only. He ran down the stairs in complete darkness, no time to fiddle with his switches. He knew his house well enough. After jumping down the last few steps, he made a hard turn, passing by the dining room to the kitchen. A desperate noise erupted from his mouth, eyes watering as he extended his arm out to open the door—

But was stopped by little nails against the hardwood floors. He froze for a long moment, fingers just touching the doorknob. He blinked a few times, then carefully went to turn on a switch nearby. It was the farthest light in the kitchen, illuminating just enough for him to see his precious baby girl standing there. Puffball’s nose was wrinkled, ears flat and teeth bared as she let out a foreboding low growl. 

“Puffy…?” he asked. His eyebrows furrowed. He blinked a few more times. She gave a loud bark in reply, moving forward to now stand by his side. Confused, he turned his head to see what she was barking at.

A scream erupted from his throat immediately. He walked backwards, all the way back until his back slammed against the kitchen counter. He clutched the counter behind him, pinprick eyes staring at the figure in front of him.

It wasn’t a wolf. It wasn’t a coyote, a fox or even a raccoon. Nothing that was common for the mountain town. The kitchen light barely reached the screen door, but he could see it’s figure perfectly. It’s face was familiar to him— it was a Pomeranian. Though, it’s coat was a darker brown compared to his Puffball.

And it’s paw was too far from it’s face. 

It’s paw scratched wildly and intensely against the door. It let out a desperate and frantic whine that broke at the end, it’s misshapen body shuddering as though it had just sobbed. In the low lighting, he could just barely see an unraveled scarf pooling around its neck and shoulders; wide and humanoid. The end of a jacket sleeve was low against the paw, letting him see where tufts of fur mixed in with the smooth flesh of a human.

Yellow felt heavy, fat tears roll down his face. He could barely get any air into his shrinking lungs. As it let out another whine, Puffball barked as loud as she possibly could. His legs were shaking too badly to move, but he managed to take a shaky step to the left; desperate to reach the phone in the other room.

It was then it slammed two paws against the glass so hard that a noticeable crack appeared. It’s eyes caught the light and reflected two shiny orbs; glassy with tears and staring straight into his. It opened a mangled mouth to scream in a garbled voice— 

**_“LET ME IN!!!”_ **


	2. Haha… ha… ha……………... (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a scene where a character hits themself as an act of self harm. There's also implied/referenced past self harm soon after. It isn't graphic nor the focal point of this chapter, but please keep that in mind if you're sensitive to this subject matter.

If anyone else was in the shadowed, two-story house— someone would’ve complained about the deafening mechanical chatter that came from above. Especially since it was late into the night, pushing into 1:00 AM. The only sign of life came from the upstairs bedroom, belonging to Gillis Socco, a 19-year-old graduate from the local high school. The source of the incessant noise was a sewing machine on his desk, a somewhat newer model from the early 1980s. He focused entirely on his current project, which seemed to be an incredibly small white dress.

His desk was a cluttered and disorganized mess. Yarn, thread, lace and other bits of fabric material were scattered across the surface, mixed in with cut out pieces of paper and crushed up chip bags. All across his floor, one could see haphazard piles of old socks, shirts and shorts. More fabric and yarn were in random spots of the floor as well, tangling into each other. His bed was unmade, the comforter laying more on the floor than the actual mattress. The only thing in the room resembling tidiness was a neat row of stuffed animals that sat on his bed— some with homemade clothes on.

After a few more minutes of sewing, Gillis finally turned the sewing machine off and removed the dress. It had a dusty pink floral pattern and the fabric was incredibly soft on his hands. He knew it wasn’t quite perfect, some of the stitching looked rough up close, but he had come far from making weird fabric lumps from the month before. He nodded to himself, pleased.

He got up from his office chair and walked towards his bed. He picked up one of his stuffed animals, a bare black rabbit he lovingly named “Florence.” He put the dress on and was pleased he got the measurements right. Florence’s dress didn’t slide right off it’s small shoulders, instead staying in place just fine. 

“Heh. Looks pretty nice on you. Like your dress, Florence?” Using his hand, he moved it’s head to nod up and down. He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his bagged eyes. He yawned for the fiftieth time that hour. He considered crawling into bed for a long moment, the idea of finally resting his exhausted body mentally relieving— 

**The slight funny taste in his mouth from the past few days was now an overwhelming thick cloud of saccharine fog that threatened to choke his lungs out. Kamal told him to take slow, still and shallow breaths. Through tightly clenched teeth, if possible. Even though his lungs were burning, desperate even for the toxic air around him, he still had to be pulled away by Jimothan from—**

Pain suddenly erupted, the sensation jerking him out of the memories. Subconsciously, he had curled his hand into a fist and punched right on top of his recent and sensitive bruises on his thighs. 

“Shit, that hurts,” he mumbled. He paused, realizing his other hand had a death grip on poor Florence. “A-Ah. Sorry little dude.” He quickly released his tight hold, placing it back with the other stuffed animals. 

He lingered there for a moment. If someone else was in the house, they would’ve noticed the severe exhaustion on his face. Not just from the noticeable bags, but from the dimmed light in his usually bright eyes and his tense frown. They would’ve noticed the sides of his undercut were growing in and his simple outfit of sweats had been worn for several days now.

But nobody was home. 

Gillis finally moved, turning to his closet. He opened it, pushing back the old food wrappers and crushed soda cans that spilled out, and pulled out his radio. A hand-me-down from his elder brother a few years ago when he went off to university. Music always relaxed him and kept him calm. He quickly found some batteries in a drawer and got the radio up and running.

He fiddled with the stations for a moment, cycling through the usual bursts of static and disjointed music and chatter; until he finally stopped at his favorite station. He raised the volume to hear the DJ better.

“...And that was a classic hit from one of my favorite bands, the Monkees! This is the station that brings the past back to the present for all of you to enjoy! It may be well into the night but good music never sleeps!” They had the stereotypical loud, energetic tone that most DJs did, but they always seemed so genuine about everything. Gillis decided to, at the very least, lay down on his bed. The radio sat on his dresser right by it.

The co-host spoke up next. “Fellow music insomniacs, be prepared for another full hour of the best hits and underrated gems from the ‘60s. And hey, I hope all of you are having good nights.” He had this sweet and calm voice that always relaxed Gillis.

“Personally, I’m having a great night.” he continued.

“Is that so? Well, me too!” 

“Heh. Wish that were me.” he idly commented to himself. He yawned again. He went to rub his face, pulling back on his eyelids with a low groan.

“...Without further ado, enjoy this hit single from the world famous Beatles!” 

He shut his eyes, listening deeply to the music.

_When I was younger, so much younger than today, I never needed anybody’s help in any way, but now those days are gone and I’m not so self assured; now I find I’ve changed my mind, I’ve opened up the doors—_

_Help me if you can, I’m feeling down..._

The lyrics hit a little close to home. Since the moment he escaped the… he _escaped,_ he desperately wanted to scream for help. For comfort. For relief. For any kind of support, regardless of what it was. But it was impossible to communicate those feelings. He didn’t come from some touchy-feely family. Sports were the only thing worth getting emotional over and that usually just boiled down to yelling at the players during the Big Game. Getting anyone in the house to open about anything deeper than that was like pulling tee… pulling splinters.

_And now my life has changed, in ͓̪̼̱̱̻̣͔ͅo̷͏̴̞̱̖̱̮̙h͔̱͜ so many ways..._

Not to say either didn’t care for him. If he hadn’t known before, he definitely knew now. His parents tried to hide it, but he could see the concerned looks in their eyes. Their hushed conversations late at night. Their reluctance to leave him completely alone during the first two weeks of his return. But any desire to come clean was thrown out of the window when he actually locked eyes with them, catching their anxious stares.

He couldn’t make them worry like that.

He didn’t keep contact with the others. Even if he had, he still couldn’t go through it. What could he even say to them? 

**‘Hey, remember that awful shit we all went through? Listen to me whine about it! Hey, didn’t you lose your** **_literal father?_ ** **Focus on my feelings instead!’** The very concept had him cringe. 

_But e͞v҉ȩr̶y ̢now and then I feel so insecure..._

He couldn’t fully say he had no reason to feel so bad. He lost friends that night. Even if he was some loner, it’d still be horrific to know what happened to those innocent lives. Yet, that desire to squash his attempts to reach out overpowered any other thought or want he had. 

_I know that I just need you—̘̜͙͔͚͞i̧̪͓̣͕͚̞-͇͎͎̱͔͇͖̥̪͞i̷̢͔̤-̣̦̳̼̱̯̺͍̠i̯̞̠̬͞t̮̙̩̰̣͖̠̳̕ ̤̫͔̻͝͠b̴̟͍͉͢r̹͓̥͕͙̙͟͞o̬̹k̨̺̠͕̺͔̕e͕ ̶͏̟͔̤̜̹̤͇͓̟t̨̡͈̺̻̰͢h͏̶̴̙̪̗̭͙̰͓̟-̧҉̟̬t̸̴̝̣͈̝̜h̴̢̺̲̱̳̙̣r͔̟͉̦ơ̤͕ͅṳ̴̱̝͖̥͉̼͙͟͝g̕͏̞̯͖̰̜ḥ̸ ̢̲͙̞h͏̢̗̻̭ị̴̢̜̼̪̞̲̖ͅş̷̟̖͉͚̯͞ ̸͖̱̯̥̭͟ͅd̵̲͕͖̱̪̭̣o͞͏̶̬̟̺o̩͍̜̫̰̙͠r̸͍̘͍̮͢ ͕̬͞͞b̮̠͕̘e̻̳͇̪̰͖̰̭f̸͍͕̮̣͔͔̩̭o͙̙̩̙͔̰ŗ̭̙̘̤͈͚̥e̡̝̖̣͎̝̥ẹ̯̞͙̲̭ͅe҉͕̘̜̰̬̼—- like I’ve never done before…_

He opened his eyes, his troubling thoughts taking a back burner to his immediate confusion. He sat up and grabbed his radio. The music was quickly overpowered by a heavy feed of static. He moved the tuning knob around for a few seconds before giving it a somewhat hard smack on it’s side. Finally, something finally came through the station.

“...See, that’s weird. That’s really weird, Raydee.” it was the co-hosts voice. A slight layer of static was still audible, but his words were legible. “My neighbor was just talking about this strange dog-thing she saw the other night. But you and I live a good few miles from each other.”

“Oh, really? That’s crazy!”

“...What?” Gillis asked out loud. He smacked the side of the radio again, but the music didn’t come back in. The two kept talking.

“Yeah, yeah. She said it looked human too. But it was walking on all fours, on long human limbs, without any problem. It was coming down from the edge of the woods. She didn’t think to call animal control because she thought she was going crazy, but the next day she decided to check the area out of curiosity— and found these strange prints. Only two sets of paw prints and these strange shoe prints. She took a picture and showed it to me.”

Raydee sighed. “I don’t want to call her or Yellow liars, you know Yellows a good friend of mine… but Jules, this sounds so crazy. Some half human half dog monster is just walking around the town? I mean, where would it even come from? We’re not by any government labs or anything!”

“You never know! They’re secret for a reason.” Jules joked and Raydee gave a slight laugh. 

“Hey, I got a good theory. Maybe it came from that weird resort.”

Gillis froze.

“That wellness resort?” Jules paused, giving a small noise of thought. “I mean, I could see it. I never knew that doctor, but the ads around town did look kinda weird. Not surprised if they decided to make some monsters!”

No. No no no. No. NO. NO! 

“Yeah, I—” A door could be heard opening from the other room, followed by footsteps against the ground. “...People can hear us talking on air? What? My mic’s off. Jules, is yours off?”

He remembered CLEARLY what Kamal told all of them that day, told them the fate of everyone else— but he had hoped, practically BEGGED that he was mistaken or the laughing gas didn’t really work like that; that they were at peace somewhere and not still wandering like _that..._

“It is! Boss, are you sure they can hear us?

The static was louder now. It quickly swallowed up the two again. With shaking hands, he clamped them against his ears. It did little to prevent the static from invading his hearing, penetrating so deep he could’ve sworn it was infecting him. His limbs suddenly felt so heavy yet weightless, disconnecting themselves from him. The sensation caused tears to burn at the corners of his eyes. His fingers curled, nails digging into the sides of his head. 

“Stop it… stop it… stop it… stop, stop, stop stop, stop...” He whispered to himself on loop. He rocked his body back and forth. His chest was aching from a tight and sudden pain. His breath quickly became shuddery and uneven. The static only grew deeper within his body, traveling all the way down to his soul and wrapping it’s horrific noise around it. He could _hear_ it within his head now, echoing endlessly.

“STOP IT!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, tears outright falling down his face now.

In the next moment, the static stopped. Completely. 

“Sssh. Do you hear that?” Jules suddenly asked. His voice was much more shaken now.

“...Raydee. Boss. Can you see that?” 

Gillis stared at the radio. He waited to hear the reply.

“...What the FUCK is that—” Raydee’s voice was interrupted by a new voice. A horribly familiar one.

“W̽ͤo͊̊ͮͨ̌҉n͐̒͟'ͭ̄̉̓tͨ̋̽̀̒͡ ̵̓͊ͦ̆ÿ̈ͥ͗oͯ̃̀̌͏u͘ ͩͪͯͯp͒l̿ͫ̇͠eͮͤ͂̚ã͂ͪsͫ̃̂̈́ͬe,̨ͭ ͘pͯͫl̷̈́͗e̕a̡̐ͥ̾s̏̊ͣͩ̄éͧ͏ ̑͞heͭ̀ĺͮp̓ͪ̀̍̈ ̓̂m̎͑̓̌͆͋ȅ͒ͣ̎?̵ͥͮ̐ͭ̿͛” it sang so sweetly, as though the record was still playing.

_‘Tiff always had such a beautiful voice.’_ he thought to himself. Just for a second.

He soon buried his head into his hands and heavily sobbed.

And the radio played nothing but static for the rest of the night.


	3. …... (Part 2.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wait and sorry it took so long. There's not any real warnings I'd have to give for this chapter, though there is some light violence. I hope you enjoy the next part of this little arc.

Once static overwhelmed the radio broadcast— the town was thrown into a sudden and crazed frenzy before they could even blink. 

All of the Object Heads had finally made their way down the mountain.

With unsteady steps and inhuman shrieks, they walked openly among the neighborhood streets. Their trembling hands ripped apart fences and doors, shattered windows and reached out for anything they could recognize in their hazed, dissociative view. Even the lucky few that avoided direct contact with the Object Heads were paralyzed in fear at the sounds— car alarms, gunshots, neighbors weeping and screaming. A chaotic symphony of a town falling into borderline madness.

Although, there was still a place in town that had absolute peace and quiet. There was a small shopping district made up of small, local businesses downtown. It had been closed for the night hours before, leaving no soul behind to notice the single Object Head roaming the streets.

Given their height and build, it was clear they were a child. Their oversized sweater was plastered with dirt. Their leggings had rips and tears in the fabric, similarly stained with dirt. Their dark hair was messy and unkempt, clearly unwashed for some time. It was barely staying put in a loose ponytail, with the hair tie missing one of it’s beads. The remaining one was scuffed and dirty. Their most striking feature, however, was their head: it was a singular eye. At the very moment, their pupil was absolutely focused on the empty air above them. 

“Here?” they asked aloud. The only response was the electric hum of a nearby light post. The eyeball then turned their gaze toward the building in front of them. It was the local dentist clinic, noted by the stock photos of smiling children on the sides of the darkened windows. The logo on the front door was two toothbrushes criss-crossed in front of a tooth. 

They blinked slowly. If someone were around, they would’ve noticed the noise of their eyelids shutting and opening was quite audible.

“Oh. I get you. Neat.” They spoke in a noticeably flat tone. They walked towards the glass door and gave it an experimental push. As expected, it didn’t budge a single inch. 

“Locked.” they looked up to the air around them again. “Do something.”

A few seconds passed.

“Try it. Baby.” 

For a very, very long minute, they stood there. Without moving and hardly blinking. Not speaking a word. 

For seemingly no reason, they began to move around again. They walked to the nearby rock bed that decorated the sides of the building and picked a somewhat large rock up. They then faced the door again, holding the rock tight in their hand as they leaned back and pulled back their arm.

“Break.” Their arm moved to throw so fast it was certainly unnatural. Even more so was the way the rock crashed through the door, shattering the glass and scattering the shards all over the floor of the front office. Without another word, the eyeball walked forward. Their boots crunched loudly over the glass as they walked dead ahead into the main hallway.

They turned the corner to find the examination rooms. They pushed the first door open, fortunate enough for it to not be locked. The office was largely shadowed in darkness, but a single window let in enough moonlight for the Eyeball to make out most of the details. It was the typical run of the mill dentist office. Nothing particularly hi-tech or interesting about it.

They spent the next several minutes looking around the place, clearly intent on finding something. They went into the bottom cabinets first, crawling into the space and throwing most of its contents out of the way without a care. After that, they inspected the dentist chair closely. They examined every angle and corner of the chair and it’s side table. They managed to crawl up the counter to inspect both it and the upper cabinets. Again, they tossed out nearly everything they found.

The office door creaked. The Eyeball stopped once more to stare at it’s direction.

“Good. Lead me.” they added one final shattered jar of cotton balls to the floor before hopping off the counter. They stumbled slightly as they walked back into the hallway, but kept themself stable enough to head to the deeper part of the clinic. The door was already opened, leading them to easily enter the room. The light switch turned on without touch, lighting up the room, but the Eyeball didn’t need it. They had already seen what they had been looking for, given the gasp that escaped them.

They practically tackled into the large canister of laughing gas in excitement. They crawled upwards and frantically twisted the nozzle. It hissed as the colorless gas was released. The Eyeball kept their face near the stream, taking in deep and heavy breaths. Their body twitched and jerked at first, but soon relaxed as they took more and more in.

“Heehee. Heh heh. Heee hee…” their shoulders now shook from their monotone laughter. They shut the nozzle off.

“Heehee. Okay. Let’s go.” they slid off the canister and made an attempt to pick it up. They managed to lift it up barely off the ground, though their arms were shaking from it’s extreme weight. They took a few steps back before they stumbled onto the ground, the canister barely missing them and instead hit the ground with a hard smack. It rolled off, leaving the Eyeball to grunt with pain from landing hard on their side. Their eye yet again moved to look above them.

“Yeah...I’m fine. Crybaby. Heh heh.” they looked up again. “Try it.” 

The canister began to slowly lift into the air, seemingly on it’s own. It visibly shook and twisted as it floated upwards before it suddenly fell to the floor with a loud thunk. 

“Heh. That sucked.” the eyeball let out a sigh, followed by more short chuckles. “Hee. We need some help. Any ideas?” 

They waited.

“No. Purple. Ew.”

They waited.

“Pushover. Hee. But a crybaby. Heh heh. Not reliable. Next.”

They laughed.

“Last resort. But maybe. Question.”

…

“Are you sure? Heehee. About _them?”_

The room grew cold. Incredibly cold. The Eyeball looked away sheepishly, bringing their hands to rub their arms for warmth.

“...Alright. Making sure. Boo.” they shrugged their shoulders. “Last resort it is. Heh.”

* * *

It didn’t take too long to finally find the house, especially when they had laughing gas in their system. Climbing over the backyard fencing was similarly easy, their experienced hands getting over it without a sweat. The lights were on in the home, thus the Eyeball was careful as they made their way through the backyard. As they got closer, they noticed a direct way inside without making any real noise— a dog door. They were thankful for their size as they crawled through the small entrance, landing them into the near silent house.

It looked like a comfortable and well-lived place. It seemed to be a normal and compact one bedroom house. The living room and the kitchen naturally bled into each other. Framed art and paintings decorated most of the walls. The kitchen looked relatively nice, barring the banged up oven door with a loose handle and the messy array of notes on the refrigerator. The living room had a cozy looking old couch, with colorful blankets thrown on top. 

They took light and careful steps, not wanting to make anything creak. They quieted a giggle when their eye spotted the garage door was wide open, with the person they needed directly in their line of sight. 

His name was Dallas Smuth, a local freelance artist in his mid thirties. He was situated in the middle of the room, sitting on a small chair as he painted on his easel. He seemed completely focused with his painting. What worried them, however, was the little white dog that sat right by his feet on a dog bed. The dog was to the left, so the Eyeball kept their guard up and decided to approach from the right.

They entered the garage. They darted their eye around just for a moment, curious of their surroundings. Clearly, barring a few moving boxes lying around, the garage had been converted into a makeshift art studio. The walls had long, wavy lines of various bright colors painted onto them. Bushes, flowers, dogs, cats, buildings, monsters, superheroes and other items were drawn on top of the colors at random spots. The floor was mostly a drab shade of gray, though there were random splotches of dropped paint everywhere.

They moved carefully onto his side, getting closer and closer. He kept his attention on his painting, holding a small paintbrush to add the littlest of details. At this point, they could actually see what it looked like. The canvas pictured a blue-cloaked hero with the sun shining behind them, their gloved hand high into the air as though they had won a great battle. Their outfit was textured by a pattern of small white flowers.

He paused and leaned back. A moment later, he gave a confident smile.

“Now _this…_ this is gonna be like… a _totallll_ masterpiece.”

“Looks lame.” they replied impulsively. 

With a high-pitched yell, Dallas promptly kicked them across the room. 

Being rather light, they soared through the air for a moment before crashing onto a broken easel and old paintings that were tucked into the very back. The laughing gas helped numb the initial impact, though they could already feel an intense ache beginning to envelop their entire body. They laid on the ground for a moment, still processing not only what was happening, but the images of the paintings all around them.

Blood-red canvases dotted with clusters of teeth. Big red lips that spewed out a gas colored an ugly, dark shade of green. An irregular building obscured in an ominous shadow. Bleeding eyeballs painted over hastily with black paint, obscuring half of the details. 

_How strange is it, to see Heaven depicted as Hell._

Their muddled mind was still dwelling over it as they attempted to pull themselves back up. They hissed as their arms began to tremble furiously. As they collapsed back onto the ground, they could hear Dallas beginning to say something— his voice frantic and loud. They couldn’t understand a word. It was as though they were underwater. The world quickly became blurry, the world around them spinning around and around in dizzying circles. They felt their body was picked up in a swift movement and it nearly made them hurl. They attempted to say something, but their eye involuntarily shut as another wave of dizziness overcame them— 

They slowly came back, their eye opening inch by inch. They felt something soft behind their back. Their body still had an immense ache, but the pain was slightly dulled. A cool, wet thing was placed on top of their head. The sensation of water droplets running down their eyelid helped them fully open it. There, they realized they were on the living room couch, covered with a soft blanket. An excited bark caused their gaze to shift to the little white dog that sat right by the couch. His tail wagged excitedly.

“Hi.” they greeted. The dog barked in excitement and stood on his hind legs, trying to get closer to them. They reached out their arm and began to pet him. The soft feel of his fur would’ve made them smile, if they had a proper mouth.

“Ohhh!! You’re awake!!” Dallas sighed with relief. He sounded not too far away, so they guessed he was in the kitchen. 

“I was sooo worried for you, kid. Hang on, lemme just…” Dallas paused, followed by the clank of something banging against the side of a metal pot. Footsteps soon followed and soon, Dallas stood in front of them.

His hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, most of the hair draped onto his shoulder. He wore a nervous grin. He rubbed his hands together and they were pressed tight to his chest. 

“I am… sooooooo, so, so, so, so _sorry,”_ a little laugh escaped him. “It was a total accidennnnt, you know? I was just… really surprised! Uh, like, imagine if I showed up out of nowhere, late at night and I had like, this freaky palette for a head! Haha… oh, n-no offense! I know you can’t help it! You know, it was all **his** fault anyways…” Dallas eyes widened, a flash of frustration at himself appearing on his face. He sighed again and clapped his hands together, forcing a toothed grin onto his face. 

“Okay, anywayssss! Are you feeling any better?” The anxious look in his eyes was even more noticeable. 

“I’m okay.” They noticed how he flinched at the sound of their voice again. “Don’t worry. Loser.”

“Oh thank god, I reallyyyy thought I busted something in you, Tim Tam…” he relaxed slightly, a sigh escaping him. 

The Eyeball titled their head.

“Tim Tam?” they asked. 

Dallas stared them down, the smile dropping from his face. His wide eyes stared down at them. Inspected them. Their ripped clothes, the dirt upon their aching and bruised skin and their twisted face. No recollection within their single pupil at the sound of their own name. The childish display of confusion brought a heavy and painful sense of sorrow in his chest.

“...It… It’s nothing. D-Don’t worry about it.”

His hands clenched, recalling the horrific smile of the **_demon_ ** that did this to them.

“It’s fine.” he lied. 

“Okay.” they replied, simply. 

Neither moved nor looked away.

Until the sound of something bubbling over and water splashing onto the floor interrupted the tense moment. The mood lightened as Dallas swore in surprise, running over back to the kitchen. The Eyeball shifted from their spot, ignoring the pain as they lifted themselves up from the couch cushions to look at him.

The bubbling pot on the stove was already quieting down. Dallas picked up a wooden spoon on the counter and stirred the pot. He moved his head to look behind him.

“Hey, uhhhhh… Eyeball? You like mac and cheese?” The very idea had their stomach loudly growl. In case he missed it, they gave an enthusiastic nod. Dallas chuckled, returning his focus on the pot.

“Groovy! It’s almost done, so just be patient, kidddd...” 

They settled back to the couch. They relaxed onto the throw pillows they were previously resting on, pulling the blanket back on themselves. The noises from the kitchen were surprisingly relaxing— the faintly bubbling pot, the splash of water hitting the sink, the thump of the macaroni hitting the strainer over and over again to clear out the excess water; if it weren’t for the delicious and overwhelming scent of the cheese, they likely would have slept again.

When Dallas arrived with a large bowl with macaroni and cheese, they couldn’t stop their excitement. They got up before he even sat on the couch, reaching out with their hands to grab it. Dallas kept it high above them, unreachable even if they tried to jump. They tried to, regardless.

“Hey, heyyy, don’t strain yourself, duuude, I promise you’re gonna get food. But when’s the last time you had food? Likeeee, a proper, real meal?”

They settled back onto the couch, sitting with their arms crossed. “... No idea.”

“Exactly. Look, I know from experience— when you don’t get to eat anything majorrrr in forever, your body is just gonna get sick and hurl it back up. So, I’m gonna just have to feed you.”

On one hand, their pride wouldn’t allow it. But on the other hand, they were starving. The other hand won in a landslide.

“Fine. But hurry.”

“I got you, kidddd.” Dallas scooped up a bit, blowing on it a few times. He paused, however, just as he was about to hand it to them. “...Wait. Where do I put it?”

To his horror, the Eyeball pulled open their bottom eyelid and pointed directly downwards. Dallas cringed and with great hesitation, dropped the macaroni into their eyelid. They blinked repeatedly and quickly swallowed with an audible gulp. 

_(Dallas briefly wondered if the blinking was like chewing? Was it turning the macaroni into paste?? Or was it just forcing the macaroni down it’s eyeball??? How did this work??????)_

“...Okayyyy, that’s gonna give me nightmares. Cool!” 

For a short time, Dallas fed the Eyeball, taking a few bites in between for himself. Even his dog, which the Eyeball soon learned was named ‘Deli,’ got a few bites of macaroni himself. Though there was still at least half left in the bowl, Dallas put it away. They were decently satisfied and didn’t have any pressing desire to throw up, so they didn’t fight for anymore. 

They relaxed onto the couch again, sighing from the comforting warmth they managed to get from under their blanket. Dallas got up to replace their ice pack with a new one, as their head was still aching. He then joined them again on the couch, reaching over to grab the remote control from the coffee table.

“You should get to bed. Do you mind noise when you’re trying to sleep?” 

“Not really.”  
  


“Good. I like to put on the TV to help me get tired. Something about those weird commercials, mannnn. They always make me knock out.” He turned the TV on and was immediately taken aback at what was playing.

Instead of the usual paid advertisements that ran through the night— the anchorman that hosted the morning news was at his desk. Dallas vaguely recalled his name being Hidson. Normally, he wouldn’t be on for at least another few hours. As well, he would’ve looked normal too— wearing a clean suit with a colorful tie, his dark hair gelled back, with the sort of ever-present upbeat and charming personality that was only normal for news anchors. 

Instead, he was dressed in his pajamas with a night coat loosely thrown over it. His hair was messy and ruffled, like he just got out of bed just ten minutes before shooting. His eyes were wide, hands tightly clutching onto a sheet of papers as he frantically spoke off-script.

“ — Again, this is NOT a prank! This is REAL, people! Countless reports are being made about these unknown creatures infiltrating our town. They are being described as humanoid beings with unnatural heads made up of objects. Some reported ones include a woman with lips for a head, another with an owl and a young boy that’s half-dog and half-human.” He ran a hand through his hair, a desperate look in his eyes.

“We have no answer on who they are, WHAT they are, what they can do or who created them. However, we can confirm that some of them have unnatural capabilities— radio waves are being hijacked across the whole town. That means all calls to local and state authorities are compromised and any local broadcasts, such as the news report you’re viewing right now, can be interrupted at a moment’s notice.” 

Dallas had frozen in place since the beginning of the report. He came back when the Eyeball gently tapped his arm. He looked down with frightened eyes.

“W… What’s happening, Tim Tam!?” he demanded.

They chose to ignore the odd nickname, as they had something more important to focus on. “Need help. They’re scared and they’re hurting. The happy gas ran out in them. They’ll go back up if they get happy gas. Found some.” They removed the ice pack and threw the blanket off themself, getting off the couch. 

“W-Why do you need me?!” Dallas asked, getting off the couch himself. His hands went to his ponytail, running his fingers through his hair.

They pointed at themself. “Not strong enough. Canisters heavy.” They then pointed at him. “You can help.”

“I-I’m not that strong,” Dallas admitted, shaking his head. “Well, I mean, I do have a dolly left over from when I moved…” 

“Good enough. Plus. You have a car. Drive me. I can find a friend. Red dress. Big glasses. We need her.”

It didn’t take long for Dallas to recognize the description. “Tiff?! Why do we need Tiff?”

“Radio head. She’s controlling the waves. Everyone hears her words. If we give her gas, then everyone will know there’s gas. We can get everyone happy and giggly and back up before they get hurt.”

“B-But, why ME? Why not someone actually strong, likeeee... Gillis?” 

“Crybaby. Not as strong as he looks.” Dallas rubbed his hands together, his voice panicked.

“But I know Jimothan—” 

“No. Weak. Loser. Bad knee.”

“Maybe Walluss? I heard he’sss— ”

“Wall freak? Disappeared with Roof Freak.” Dallas let out a shaky breath.

“What aaabout Flower Kid? I-I haven’t heard from that little buddyyy at all, so maybe they’re busy, but they really liked helping people out…”

The Eyeball shook their head. **“He** won’t let me.”

**“He?”** Dallas repeated. “Who is **He?”**

~~(An inaudible whisper. Desperate. Pleading. Only they could hear it.)~~

“... Doesn’t matter.” they looked away briefly before returning to stare him down. Their determined glare made him flinch slightly.

“Look. It’s you. It has to be you. No one else can do this.” With every word, they walked forward. Dallas walked back in response, shaking his head all the while. He hunched over, making himself small. 

“I can’t,” Dallas confessed, his words soft and quiet. “I always used to think I was some hero o-or some big protagonist, but I’m not. I’m just a normal guy! N-No, a loser. Someone like me j-just can’t help! I— I— I’m just… I’m just not—- I’m not… _I’m not good enough!”_ his voice raised, eyes watering. 

“I-I don’t even know why fate chose me t-to not get hit with that gas, y’know? I-I should’ve stayed behind anyways, I should’ve convinced someone like Randy or Lulia— people with real talents, real stories— to get out! W-Who cares if I would’ve been in your place, you know? A-And you shouldn’t have been the one being punished! You were a KID!” Tears ran down his face as he continued, his voice raw and loud.

“You were a CHILD! A— A— A kid named Tim Tam. Y— You loved, you LOVED messing with people. Y-You stole everything a-and anything, you alw— always snuck into my room to steal my purple paints… you said you hated p-purple a-and I said, “Wellllll, aren’t you purple,” and th— then you kicked my shins and ran off and—” a sob escaped from his throat. 

“I… I can’t…” he sobbed again, his shoulders shaking. 

The Eyeball stepped closer. Dallas didn’t react, even when they came right by his leg. Minding their strength, they gave a good punch to it. He let out a small grunt, his crying pausing from the shock. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it shut when they interrupted him.

“Stop being dumb. It’s not your fault.” they shrugged their shoulders. “Simple.”

“...I wish… I wish it was that easy, little dude. But it isn’t.”

“It can be. If you stopped being mean.”

“Mean…?” Dallas repeated.

“To yourself.” The Eyeball nodded to themself. “No more mean words. Try. And try. And try again. Maybe it’ll get better. But don’t just say no. You’re just asking to fail. And get worse. First step is helping me.” Dallas’s eyes went soft.

~~(Another whisper.)~~

They nodded in thought, taking in **His** words. “... You can see it as forgiveness. I guess. I’ll still think you’re stupid. Crybaby.” They finished with another punch to the leg. 

“Ow!” Dallas laughed despite the pain. “Well… I guess you have a point, kid. Feeling sorry for myself isn’t gonna help aaaaanyone. And… if I’m the only one left to help, I guess fate did have a reason for letting me survive, huh?”

“ATTENTION!” Hidson all but screamed from the television, pulling them back to the still on-going broadcast. “It’s been reported that there is a FIRE on Blossom avenue! Some locals claim one or two of these unknown creatures, which have been given the nickname ‘Object Heads,’ started the fire! Reportedly, at least two have heads composed of active fires and are incredibly dangerous! Stay alert for these Object Heads…”

Dallas reached over and turned the television off. “Welllll, either way, someone has to do somethingggg before it gets worse. Okay… let’s do this! I… I’m still a little shakyyyy, but it’s either this or letting the town burn down! Whoo!!” he cheered, a half-confident smile on his face.

“Yay.” They raised their hands in the air. “Let’s get going.”

“Dali! Watch the house for me!” Dali barked in reply. Dallas scooped up the Eyeball and carried them close to his chest, opening the front door with a slam and heading to his parked truck.

“Guess it’s time for our story to begin!”

“Put me down.” The Eyeball protested.

...And after Dallas returned to grab his dolly, his keys and a jacket for him and the Eyeball, they took off into the night. 

A translucent figure watched them from the backseats. 

**Author's Note:**

> ... A bit darker than what I usually write. When I was writing the first draft, I was heavily depressed. I hated my writing, I hated myself and I just felt so stupid and worthless. So, I decided to get my feelings out with an angst heavy story. Usually, I’d delete what I wrote after I calmed down from the episode; but I actually enjoyed what I wrote. I saw similar fan art and fanfics at the time doing similar darker stories, so I wanted to give it a try myself. I ended up creating this little angst AU.
> 
> Without getting too much into the details, this AU is based on the post-Bad Ending of Smile For Me. The 11/11 ending to be exact, where eleven unhappy Habiticans are left behind during the Big Event. While in canon the object heads are a hallucination brought on by the laughing gas, here it’s shown that they’ve transformed into those forms. They no longer truly remember who they are and wander the area, their base instincts and remaining memories driving them to endlessly search for something they don’t quite understand. The town is now haunted by them and several stories of encounters with these object heads are waiting to be told.
> 
> I plan to write some chapters from the perspective of the Object Heads as well. And without spoiling too much, I do plan for the surviving Habiticians to return. I hope at the end of the fic, even if they can never reach their old selves again; the Object Heads can achieve a sense of peace. I plan to make a slightly messed up recovery fic, basically.
> 
> I hope this is okay. I’ve sat on this draft for so long. I’ve rewritten it a thousand times. Truth be told, I’m still not completely happy with it. But, I need to be more active. And I need to tell my depression, ‘Hey! We don’t have to make masterpieces before we can show them! We’ll never get anything done at this rate!’ I do hope it was a good read, at least. Sorry it's a bit short, I promise the next chapter will be a bit longer.
> 
> If you’ve gotten this far, thank you so much for reading. My art/writing blog is @ethervibes. My main blog is @transfemhabit. Please leave a kudo/bookmark/comment if you enjoyed this, that means the world to me. Have a great day/night! :-)


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